


locked in

by Magali_Dragon



Series: one shots and other drabbles [17]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Idiots in Love, Lovesickness, Mad Scientists, Misunderstandings, No Plot/Plotless, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex, Smut, Sort Of, Why Did I Write This?, doctors!jonerys, explorers!jonerys, nerds!jonerys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:27:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23832349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magali_Dragon/pseuds/Magali_Dragon
Summary: At the top of the world, draconologist Daenerys Targaryen is really irritated by glaciologist Jon Snow and really is not happy that they get locked in together.  What else is there to do though?**Bonus Chapter added**
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Series: one shots and other drabbles [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567705
Comments: 123
Kudos: 658





	1. snowstorm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the top of the world, draconologist Daenerys Targaryen is really irritated by glaciologist Jon Snow and really is not happy that they get locked in together. What else is there to do though?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started this at the beginning of my quarantine so it seems funny that I end it as my quarantine ends and I return to the office next week. It has legit ZERO plot. I don't know why I picked the setting I did, I just thought it lent itself to forced quarantine. 
> 
> It's just Jon and Dany sex, honestly. Zero point or plot, so don't go looking for one.

Dany liked to believe herself to be a patient woman, given often to the benefit of the doubt, empathy, and understanding of her fellow humans. She did have a very strict moral code, which if the person broke it, whether before or after their meeting, she instantly lost all sympathy. She never considered herself someone to _hate_ another on sight, unless of course they violated that moral code.

So when she climbed off the helicopter at the top of the world—more like the _end_ of the world—instantly blasted with a cloud of ice and snow, freezing the droplets of sweat that beaded along her hairline, beneath a beanie that did little to warm her head, and covered in a giant red parka with a thick fur ruff around the hood, Dany never expected to encounter someone who had not violated her moral code, but who she absolutely _hated._

Like, she really _hated_ him. Mortal enemy type. For no reason other than he just seemed to hate her too. It seemed as though he detested her on sight, the instant he met her. Perhaps it was because she had upset his perfect way of things, she was a southerner, she was a scientist in a field he did not think important, who the fuck knew by the time she realized that he was just a great Northern brute with no manners or ability to interact with anyone unlike himself. That is to say—no one.

Dany stared up at the ceiling of the small, windowless room, her chest heaving, trying to ascertain what just happened. She ran through the facts. Like any good scientist and yes, despite the _egregious_ display of unprofessional behavior that had just occurred, she was still a scientist. In the back of her mind, she pulled them forth, all the observable pieces of evidence she had over the past few weeks, but even after going over them several times, she still wasn’t sure what had just happened. Or maybe it was just that he didn’t like her… _because_ he liked her. Very primary school little boy type behavior of him, but that was men for you, after all. At least, the ones she had known.

The sandpaper feeling in the back of her throat brought her from her mind to the present. The heat of the room was almost unbearable, her skin sticky with sweat and the remnants of what had just happened between them for the past hour or so. It was a result of the shutdown, but that was just the beginning of it. She honestly was unsure how it all happened. It seemed like it was just them arguing, per usual, and then…not arguing.

_How did this happen?_

Dany frowned and thought back.

It had all started with a phone call from an old professor.

Four bloody weeks ago.

She was in Dorne, on a dig, excited to discover the bones of what she believed to be a true Valyrian-born dragon, perhaps even the ancient Targaryen dragon shot down over the region thousands of years before, Meraxes herself, when one of her assistants, Grey Nuhdo, called over: “It is a call from the North, Dr. Targaryen,” he called.

She hadn’t wanted to be disturbed, too busy with the excavation, but she grunted, climbing up from the red sand, deciding it was probably time to take a break anyway; the sun had been abnormally hot that day and her skin felt like it was cracking from dehydration. So Dany hopped out of the pit, with the half-excavated bones of a dragon, to accept the call.

She dusted her hands of red dirt and sand, took the phone, and listened intently as Professor Jorah Mormont, who she had studied with during a bit of post-doctoral research at Queen Alysanne’s University in the North, requested she travel to the Lands of Always Winter, at the top of the world, to study a peculiar set of bones discovered during a glaciology expedition to study the effects of warming of the world’s atmospheres and seas.

The discovery of the bones was hindering the expedition, the overseeing authority unwilling to continue until the authenticity of the bones, species, and possible effect on the ice surrounding them was verified. Jorah insisted she be the one to study them, for he was certain they were species _Zaldrizesion Suvionas_ or the mythical and as yet unidentified in the wild, Ice Dragon.

The possibility of finding the bones of an _Ice Dragon_?

She halted the dig in Dorne immediately, gotten on the first flight out, and barely had time to pack a bag and purchase a winter coat before she headed straight to the end of the world. She had never been Beyond-the-Wall, so when her plane flew overhead, she was downright giddy, staring at the massive 600-foot high wall of ice that broke the United Kingdoms of Westeros from the wild world of the stateless tribes and cities that made up the region known as Lands of Always Winter.

She studied the histories and folktales during the various flights north, the plane landing at the small airport at Hardhome, where she met with a member of the expedition, a dour man called Edd Tollett. “Are you one of the glaciologists?” she asked, as he led her from the airport to a waiting Jeep, to bring her to the helicopter that would take her to the semi-permanent Joramun-Brandon Station, funded by the Westeros Science Foundation. She knew she would have to pass through there before she could get to the Direwolf Station, which was at the very tip of the region, along the Shivering Sea, where the bones had been discovered.

There would be plenty of time upon her return to take in more of these strange lands—she had read about the Fist of the First Men, the Milkwater, and the strange haunted farmsite known as Craster’s Keep, but what she really wanted to see was the Heart of Always Winter, the alleged location of where the worlds of winter had truly been born, where all the magic and mystery of the world of the North was said to come from.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t time for sight-seeing, and quiet Edd Tollet rushed her to the Jeep. “No, I’m just one of the permanent support crew,” he said, climbing into the driver’s seat. The Jeep roared to life, the diesel engine sounding like a plane about to take off. He chuckled, smirking. “They call us Watchmen. Night’s Watch.”

“Like the stories?”

“Aye.”

Edd Tollet was generally very quiet, which she appreciated, as she took in the snow-covered homes of Hardhome, the sweeping mountains and snowdrifts surrounding the seaside town. The helicopter was already buzzing when she arrived, and she hurried into it, barely had time to get her parka on, at Edd’s suggestion before they climbed out of the Jeep. “Pardon my language, but it’s cock-freezing cold up there and Dr. Snow is not happy about the delays, so he’ll want you looking at the bones immediately.”

As she hurried with her parka, Dany racked her brain from the quick brief she’d received from Jorah before boarding her flight in White Harbor and the limited scientific journals and grant packages she had glanced at on the plane from Dorne. “Ah…Dr. Snow?” She could not remember that name, although she thought she probably should have. It was peculiar.

Plus, a glaciologist who actually had the last name _Snow?_

“Aye,” Edd smirked. “Dr. Jon Snow, he’s the head of the expedition, he’s not happy about the bones, it’s putting off his research into the ice.”

“Seriously, his last name is really Snow and he studies ice?”

Edd gave her a stern look, although she wasn’t sure it was much different from how his face normally appeared. “I would not go mentioning that to him, Dr. Targaryen. Sure-fire way to get him to hate you on sight.” He chuckled, grabbing her bag and throwing it to their pilot, an insane looking man who was not wearing a coat and who had flaming red hair and beard. She glanced at the helicopter, before she climbed in, wondering if she was going to truly fly in a device that had a snarling bear on it with _Bear Fucker_ painted on the tail above the registration number.

 _Where the seven hells am I?_ she wondered, as the pilot, who was the redheaded man she’d seen already—Tormund Giantsbane—roared for her to buckle up, it was going to be a bumpy ride. He laughed, lecherously, adding: “And not because it’s a ride with me either, although that can be arranged for after.” He winked at her, blue eyes twinkling merrily.

Dany blinked, glancing sideways at Edd. “Is he serious?” she demanded. Edd just chuckled.

And when they landed and she met Dr. Jon Snow, her whole concept of never disliking people immediately went to the test. Ultimately, as she looked back, yeah, maybe she _did_ hate him on sight. He was the unlucky winner of that distinction, the first person she really disliked once she met them. She also hoped he would be the last, because she really did not like feeling the way she did, where she wanted to bite his head off and rip the stupid beard on his jaw off and kick him in the snow and leave him for dead. Or drive her battered and beloved set of dig tools into his ribs and watch him bleed out on the snowy floor of the helicopter hanger.

It really was his fault, of course.

Dany processed through the main station, excited and vibrating, meeting the other permanent staff there like Edd. These people spent their entire careers up here, while she spent hers in the heat and sand of the south. It was so fascinating to see the other side of things, she marveled. There were two men called Grenn and Pyp who were nice, if a bit odd and clearly friends with Edd. There was another researcher, the head of the medical staff, Dr. Samwell Tarly, who gave her the all clear to proceed up to Direwolf Station. He had fumbled awkwardly while giving her the medical physical and she thought perhaps it was because no one had ever seen a Valyrian before; her silver hair and violet eyes did tend to put off most men.

He handed her back her red parka, stammering. “Ah…might want to upgrade your coat…it’s not cleared for the cold they get up in DW Station.”

She glanced at the expensive garment, frowning. “Oh? I thought it was cleared for 20 below?”

Sam chuckled, before his cheeks turned ruddy in embarrassment. “Gets a bit colder than that Dr. Targaryen.”

That should have been the first clue for her to turn the fuck around and get her ass back to the warmth of Dorne, or the even warmer temperatures of Essos, where she made her permanent home in Meereen, when she wasn’t on dig sites around the continent. _Colder than this!? You have to be fucking kidding me._ , she thought.

When she met Dr. Jon Snow, she wondered if Sam had meant the weather being cold or the sullen, angry, scowling creature who greeted her at DW Station when the helicopter landed. It hit the ground just long enough for her to almost roll out, Tormund bellowing that it was unable to withstand the cold and snow for too long, lest the blades freeze over. He gave her a little wave. _Looking back, it was probably an apology._ She stared at her lifeline flying away, again wondering what possessed her to take on this assignment when she was putting her faith and hope in a machine called _Bear Fucker._

And then Dr. Snow approached her, hands in the pockets of his parka, which was unzipped—he must have been mad because her teeth were chattering so hard, she was sure her molars had cracked—black wild curls about his face, ears uncovered, and his iron gray eyes boring angrily into hers. “You’re the dragon doctor?” he demanded, in lieu of greeting, ignoring her outstretched hand.

Her hand dropped, immediately glaring at him. “It’s actually a draconologist, not _dragon doctor_ , but I will forgive your error. Dr. Daenerys Targaryen,” she sniffed.

“Hmm,” he grunted, turning and stalking into the station, leaving her to chase after him like a child, stumbling in her overlarge boots, heavy parka, and dragging her duffel behind her. He chuckled, not even offering to help her. “Welcome to the end of the world Dr. Targaryen, get your dragon and get out.”

The animosity from Dr. Snow, she soon realized, was not entirely directed at her, for he seemed to be irritated at everyone, snapping and clawing, like a caged wolf. A direwolf, she soon realized, he was, as he had a pet one that followed his every step, an albino with large red eyes and fur so white he blended with the powder that flooded into the station every time someone opened one of the airlock-like doors to the outside world. The wolf was like a ghost, silent and ominous, which she soon learned was his name. Ghost was actually quite sweet, sniffing at her hand and allowing her to pet his head, eyes squinting shut in doggy-wolf pleasure.

For four weeks, Dany put up with Jon’s irritating behavior, scowling at her as she excavated the bones in the snow, carefully moving pieces of the frozen remains into boxes for preservation, and bringing them into the state-of-the-art laboratory in the small Direwolf Station. “I will let you know as soon as I fully examine them,” had become her mantra with Jon Snow, as he trailed after her demanding to know how long she would need before he could get back to work.

“That’s not what I asked for,” he snapped, after week one.

She slammed her door in his face, after replying back: “Well that’s what you get.”

Maybe she would be more polite with him, if he had started off polite with her. He was diligent in his work, she had seen him with the other lab assistants and he even had a dark sense of humor, participating in some of the pranks that the other permanent bodies of the station pulled on each other. He wore exclusively black and his unruly curls were either pulled halfway from his face or else entirely back in a messy bun. She did not care for the style he seemed to adopt, sort of a hipster-look she had seen some of the university students in Meereen wear, cuffed skinny jeans over his boots and flannels, but it worked on him.

On week three, she had to go find him to provide some samples of the ice she had removed from the bones, for further testing, and knocked on his lab door. “Dr. Snow?” she called, pushing inside. Her first thought was that the laboratory was _fucking freezing_. Her second thought was that she really needed to invest in a heavier coat if she was going to be here any longer. Her third thought was— _damn, that’s what he’s been hiding beneath his parka._

The _he_ in question, was sitting at the main lab table in the room on a high stool, a booted foot propped on one rung, the other on the floor. Instead of a lab coat he wore a black t-shirt pulled tight on his chest and upper arms, and black jeans. Each article of clothing appeared to be one size too small, or else he was just far more built than she ever would have thought for someone who spent their lives in arctic climes studying ice. To her surprise, on his left arm were a series of tattoos, blending together in a sleeve—snarling wolves, a white tree with red leaves, mountains, and a long icicle that resembled a sword down the center of his forearm with a wolf-head pommel inked just above the crook of his elbow.

Heat rose on the back of her neck, heat she could not attribute to her dragon blood, as much as she wanted to. She took a step into the lab, knocking slightly into a table filled with various vials, slides, and other odd equipment she did not recognize, clattering some of it in a loud musical of clinks and clangs of glass and metal.

The noise jerked his head up from the microscope he’d been tooling with, giving Dany more of a reason to feel heated. She was often surrounded by men who wore glasses—perhaps it was an academic thing, whether they needed them or not—so it was not necessarily something she could call a turn-on for her. Except… _whoa_. The iron gray eyes he often fixed on her with annoyance or derision were magnified slightly behind thick lenses in round silver frames. His dark brows pinched together, lips mimicking the movement. “Watch it,” he growled. He pushed from the table. “What do you want?”

“Uh…samples. From the bones.”

“Oh.” He climbed from the stool and took the box, setting them on the table and began to remove them, studying the slides with the scrapings she had done. He seemed almost giddy. He glanced up at her, realizing she was still standing there, and gestured towards the microscope. “Come look at this, let’s see what we’re working with.”

“It’s just ice.”

She mentally slapped herself upside the head at the snap in her voice; maybe it was the uncomfortable feeling she had in the pit of her belly, flutters and clenching she attributed to desire, but he of course would not see it that way. A flicker of hurt crossed his face, before she had a chance to apologize, and he covered it with instant boredom. “Fine, goodbye then.”

 _Fuck._ “No, I’m sorry…”

He began to prowl again, that shuttered look in his steely eyes, like the wolves loping up his arm. Or on the symbol for the station, sewn into the breast pocket of his parka she often saw him in. “You’re right, it’s just ice. It just hides the past, freezing it for the rest of time, all the little microbes and insects and possible viruses lurking on your beloved dragon,” he droned. He moved the microscope up and down, focusing on the slide. He waved his hand. “Goodbye Dr. Targaryen.”

She growled, now angry that he would not allow her time to explain herself. “Fine,” she huffed. “Goodbye Dr. Snow.”

The bones in her laboratory did not bring her the joy they normally did after that little tiff, probably because she was too busy thinking of the surly man next door. She kept focusing on the unique formations of the marrow, the difference between this creature and the ones she studied in the south or out east, trying to figure its osteology, its buildup, and what it might have looked like. The fact that it was not found intact in such a frozen wasteland intrigued her, but she could not focus on why that was, with the angry—attractive—face of Jon Snow filling her vision each time she tried to inspect a bone fragment.

It was week four when Dany was certain she was going to _murder_ him. When she had finally had _enough_ of his stupid bullshit.

It started with what amounted to be a typical day in the frozen wasteland of the Lands of Always Winter, at DW Station, with the blaring alarm through the station’s speaker system, announcing it was six a.m., rise and shine explorers! She learned the voice belonged to an Arya Stark, who was one of the security specialists on staff, responsible for maintaining the roster of all on the station and ensuring no one went running off and was always accounted for each morning and evening; she also learned that Arya was head of the Search and Rescue, so she would be the one strapping on all the heavy equipment to track whatever poor soul got lost.

She grumbled as she climbed out of bed, falling off her cot and out of her multiple layers of blankets, heavy insulated sleeping bags, and walking stiff-legged to the bathroom, where she had to remove at least three different layers of thermal underwear and flannel. Underneath she sweat, her skin hot, but beyond that, any length of time spent in the cold and she needed to be hidden under at least six different types of pants and shirts.

Once she was done, she changed into workout clothing, went to the gym, where she would see _him_. Every other day he was either on weights or the treadmill, earbuds in, completely ignoring her. She would stretch, do yoga, and then usually run a bit before returning to her stretching. She returned to her room to take what amounted to a spritz shower; she learned the hard way that water was difficult to come by even when they were surrounded by frozen versions of it.

Then it was breakfast in the mess hall, followed by a morning briefing from Arya or from Jon, either detailing the day’s expeditions or else the general workings of the station, complete with warnings, updates, and other announcements. After that, she went to her lab. Until lunch, which she often skipped, and then more lab work. Then dinner in the mess again. Lab time, and then she was in bed by ten.

Dany was not ashamed to say more than once before she fell asleep, while lying in bed she found herself reaching under her several layers of clothing, her fingers curling around her folds, teasing herself to a damp wetness, before visions of a stormy-eyed surly glaciologist filled her vision, her pants quickening with the friction of her fingers, rubbing her clit with two fingers furiously, while her other dipped one, sometimes two, into her slick channel, pulsing around them as she came, shuddering beneath her blankets, sweat trickling down her breasts, and the overwhelming wave of pleasure ebbing to a soft pulse beneath her tingling skin.

She was only ashamed that it was the image of _him_ that she saw behind her closed eyelids, the imagining of _his_ fingers sliding over her and the poor substitution of her fingers inside of her for whatever lay beneath those tight jeans of his. When she saw him the next morning after those fitful nights, she felt like he _knew_ , his sullen gaze an x-ray over her daydreams and fantasies.

It all came to a head, that relatively average day. After her average morning.

Arya made an announcement, through the speaker system, calling off the planned trip to the excavation site. “Winds are picking up,” she said. “Request shelter in place in meantime.”

“Will we need to leave?” Dany wondered, asking Sam, who had come up to the station a couple of weeks ago.

He shrugged. “It is possible, but Tormund can’t land the helicopter or his ice-plane if it gets bad. We have to just wait it out.” The radio that he carried with him squawked, his nurse’s voice chirping through with a series of codes. He grabbed it quickly, saying nothing to her and rushed off to the medical wing, leaving Dany behind at the mess hall, wondering what that was all about.

She went to her lab, opening and closing plastic tubs that contained the bones, laying them out in the order she’d named them. She could only bring the wing and most of the dragon’s back leg and some of its spine. At least, she was sure it was a dragon. The thing was, it was missing its head and most of its second wing. The excavation had to be expanded, but now with this freak windstorm, which was battering the tin can that called itself Direwolf Station, Dany was no longer sure that would be possible.

“What happened to you my darling?” she murmured, examining a piece of the wing’s delicate bones under a large magnifying glass, her headlamp lighting the pale piece like a beacon. She stroked lightly at it, her gloves loose cotton instead of plastic, to not damage the delicate remains.

The lights above flickered, shaken by a particularly bad gust of wind. Dany shivered; it was cold, as usual, but this was more from a sense of foreboding. There was something off in the air, she could sense it. The way people were furtively looking around, the emptiness of the corridors. In some ways she was alright with that, but she also was not one of the Northerners, accustomed to massive snowstorms that knocked out all power at the top of the world. She missed her heat and sun, even the dirty sand that somehow never came out of her clothes or from various parts of her body when she went to hang out on the beach.

She glanced up at a knock on her door; very matter of fact. “Enter,” she called, setting the bone back in place.

The door pushed opened, revealing the last person she expected to see.

Jon stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. “Hey,” he called.

“You,” she snapped. _What the seven hells was he even doing here?_ She picked up another bone, beginning to place some of them on a tray, for further detailed inspection under the microscope. “Can I help you?”

“This got mixed up with my samples from the site.” He lifted up one of the plastic tubs he’d been holding under his arm.

“Oh. Well, put it there.” She set down the bones she’d been looking at, dusting her hands on the sides of her lab coat and walking over to inspect the box. It had been mislabeled, but thankfully Jon hadn’t disturbed the wrappings inside too much. She poked through the material surrounding what had been the dragon’s heart. “It’s lovely, isn’t it?”

“I guess. Looks like a rock.”

“It’s frozen, when we defrost it, we can maybe find out how this poor baby died, although I gather it was quite violent.” She picked up the frozen heart, carrying it over to the hood, but it was too late. Due to what was probably the wrong temperature and humidity controls within Jon’s lab, it was already slightly thawed.

And the biohazard alarm began to go off immediately.

She whipped her head up to the red siren light, flashing and squawking like someone had just set off the plague in the lab. “What’s happening?” she demanded.

“I don’t know, hang on.” Jon grabbed the phone by the door, punching the button for the control center. He waited a moment and barked: “Arya? What’s going on in Dany’s lab?”

 _Dany._ She didn’t remember saying he could call her that. Or that he’d even want to call her that. She tugged her lower lip under her top row of teeth, a nervous habit, still unsure what to do with the lights and sirens.

Jon was quiet for a brief second until confusion twisted on his face. “We _what_!”

That should have been Dany’s first clue that the rest of the day was going to probably suck very badly.

A few hours later, she was lying on a cot in one of the spare rooms, furious that she had been so foolish to forget simple lab protocol, but also pissed that Arya and Dr. Tarly couldn’t seem to figure out whether the biohazard alarm was simply a fluke in the old station or if it was legitimate. So she and Jon had been subjected to a series of tests to ensure that they were not infected with anything, as they had been the only ones to come into contact with the thawed dragon heart which started this entire mess.

“We’ll know in 24 hours if it’s anything immediately concerning, but I can’t do some tests until we get the bloodwork to the main station and we’re not going to be able to do that for some time, so you’ll have to remain quarantined for at least a week, unless Arya can confirm that it was a malfunction of the alarm,” Sam said, apologizing again through the speaker phone. He chuckled. “At least you guys won’t miss anything, with the weather being what it is.”

 _This is not what I wanted at all._ Maybe an adventure, discovery of a new dragon species, make some new friends, sure. Locked in a room with her mortal enemy was _not_ the plan. “Can’t I go to another room?” she called out.

Jon scowled. “Yeah, why do we have to be together?”

Arya’s voice came through the phone. “This room is the only one retrofitted for a quarantine, it operates on a separate ventilation system. Sorry.” Sam at least sounded sorry, but Arya did not, as she laughed, rather maniacally.

“Just don’t disturb the heart!” Dany demanded. It had been immediately sealed and placed in a biohazard container before being placed into a separate freezer. She sat up on the cot, gripping the sides of it tight, almost begging. “Can I at least get some of my notes in here?” If Jon didn’t kill her, boredom surely would.

“Make sure Ghost gets the deer that we bagged a few days ago for dinner,” Jon said. He sighed. “He’s going to be _so_ mad with me.”

The idea of the wolf being angry with his master forced a smile from her lips. It surprised even her, especially when Jon arched a brow. He sighed again, the weight of the world clearly on him. She understood how he felt. She didn’t want to be stuck with him either. “See you later then.”

“We’ll be by with dinner in a few hours.”

_Ugh._

Dany flopped back down again, eyes closing. This was misery, this was one of the seven hells, she was positive of it. She didn’t even look to see what Jon was doing. She might have fallen asleep, honestly.

A few hours later, when she opened her eyes, she sat up slightly; there were no windows, but she could hear the wind whipping around outside. It was probably pitch black too, like it always was here. Land of no sun. She sighed; typical. She fell back onto her pillow, hearing a small noise from the side of the room. She opened one eye, glancing sideways, rather surreptitiously, lest Jon notice she was looking. He’d changed clothes from earlier—loose black sweats and a t-shirt. She grit her teeth, angry that he looked so good lounging on his cot, reading a book.

There was a tray of food; one half picked at—likely his—another still full, on the table by the door. She must have slept through their last check-in. Whatever. She wasn’t hungry. She moved slightly, catching Jon’s attention. He didn’t look over, just turned a page. “Food’s there.”

“I see it.”

“Hmm.”

 _Ugh._ She was going to kill him by the time this was over. It hadn’t even been a full day. She lurched forward from her cot, getting to her feet and went to her things, rummaging and removing a binder. It contained photographs of the bones she’d already been inspecting. She moved to the cold floor, tugging a blanket with her, and began to lay out the photos. She didn’t notice that Jon had moved to lie on his stomach on his cot and was watching her, until he spoke, rather quiet: “It looks real, like that.”

Dany glanced up, briefly startled. His normally stern face faded into something like awe, staring at the remains of the dragon in the photos. Her gaze dropped to the photos. She murmured, “Because it is real. Obviously, it is genus dragon, but for its species, I’m still running tests.”

“So you don’t know if it’s the Ice Dragon?”

“Not sure yet.”

He nodded. He leaned over further, picking up one of the drawings she’d done, of what she imagined the dragon would look like, provided she locate the rest of poor beast’s body. “Gorgeous beast,” he said, voice low, reverent.

As pleased as it made her that he held some affection for her chosen life’s work, she didn’t like the term _beast_. “They’re my children, in some way,” she said. It was silly of her, some of her students even made fun. She quirked a lip. “They call me the Mother of Dragons. The founder of the field of draconology. I did identify the first dragon. I named him after my ex-husband.”

Jon smirked, leaning back on his cot, propping his head on his hand. “Your ex-husband gets the name of a dragon?”

Dany laughed, in spite of herself. “Yes, well, he was my ex, but he helped me in some ways. Didn’t know it of course, but I learned to stand up for myself, to be who I am today because of what I went through with him. Found my courage, my voice…I found Drogon then, fought to have him recognized as a dragon and not a dinosaur.” She rolled her eyes at the silly belief that a dragon was anything but a dragon. She fiddled with the necklace she wore, with the black tooth that hung from the chain, removing it from under her t-shirt. “This is from him, one of his teeth.”

He moved, getting up from the cot and sliding to the floor beside her, so he could see better. Dany felt his warmth; he was closer to her than he’d ever been. Well, without shouting at her at least. Or she to him. He took the tooth between his fingers, his thumb running over the smooth object. “Fascinating,” he murmured.

Dany lifted her eyes, but found he was no longer looking at the tooth, but at her. She squinted, a tiny smirk pulling at her lips. His eyes really were that color gray, she thought, wondering if it was just a trick of the light. A blend of blue and green or else maybe hazel, but no. They were in fact the shiniest of steel gray she had ever seen. “Fascinating,” she echoed.

They moved in closer and Dany was about to lean back, to compose herself, and perhaps even to distance herself, because for some reason her brain was screaming: _why was he moving so close?!_ , while her body was like: _yeah, about time_. And then both caught up with each other, brain and body, her lips parting in a surprised gasp. He was _definitely_ going to kiss her. He narrowed his steely eyes and dropped them to her lips. She swallowed hard, her heart racing in her chest, and moved into him, just barely. Suddenly, he pressed his lips on hers, insistent. She moaned into his mouth, caught off guard by her body’s _instant_ reaction to push against him, knocking him backwards.

It seemed he was surprised as well, lips breaking from hers to gasp himself, eyes wide. She didn’t care, because he felt _good._ He was warm and she was cold and he was all solid muscle and bone, his fingers tugging at her upper arms to drag her up over him. She gladly assisted, legs sliding around his narrow hips, grateful she was wearing her yoga pants as they gave her far more leeway than her usual jeans or the silly insulated snowpants she’d taken to marching around in.

They kissed hard; her lips swollen from the nips that he took with his teeth. She growled; _or maybe it was him?_ Yes, it was him, she decided, because he was a feral wolf right now, his fingers digging hard at the back of her neck, forcing her head back as he moved under her to try to stand, but she was tangled so much around him he just stumbled backwards towards his cot. Dany didn’t feel where she was, she was too busy trying to suck his tongue into her mouth, because it was sliding everywhere and that tiny piece of her brain that envisioned it on her body was starting to _loudly_ wonder what it would feel like a bit farther south of her mouth.

It seemed Jon did as well, finally breaking from her lips to kiss harshly down her jaw, over the slim column of her neck, sucking and biting at the tense muscle pulsing along to her collarbone. She pushed her hands through his hair, freeing the curls and wrapping them like ropes around her fingers, holding him close, his beard scratching at the delicate skin of her chest. The stretchy cotton shirt she wore pulled, the collar digging hard into her neck as it finally relented, but he still couldn’t get to her breasts, which were also contained in the sports bra she was wearing.

 _Too many layers_ , she thought, trying to help him push off her flannel shirt. “Rip it,” she ordered, once he got to her cotton undershirt. It was the first words they’d uttered since he kissed her, and he tore away long enough to stare at her; she gasped at the look he gave her. It was dark, feral and demanding, and all she could see was black in his eyes. His breath was harsh and hot, mingling with hers as she swooped back down to kiss him.

They struggled with clothing; her many layers and his single t-shirt and sweatpants. Her hands were small and deft, accustomed to maneuvering around delicate bones and using fragile expensive equipment, but now which moved lightning quick over his newly exposed skin. She kissed along his shoulder and down his exceptionally well-defined chest, as his fingers pulled in her braids, a groan escaping from him as she knocked him backwards so she could get her fingers underneath the waistband of his sweats.

Just as she closed her fingers around him, delighting in the sounds she was wrenching from his chest as her thumb lightly brushed over the tip of his cock, while her other hand fondled along his length, impressed that he had managed to hide this magnificent part of him in his skinny jeans. She smiled into one of his abs, lapping at the dip towards his hipbone, her tongue tracing the ‘v’ of muscle. “I silenced Jon Snow,” she murmured, lifting her eyes up to meet his. The first words they’d spoken since they’d started. She smirked. “Miracles do happen.”

He growled, yanking her up by her arms and she squealed, coming to her knees and now it was his turn to kiss over her exposed chest, her bra and panties still on, but not for long, as they tore off quickly; she wanted to exclaim that she didn’t have many—she had to be careful with her packing after all—so be careful, but then his mouth latched onto a nipple and any complaints disappeared. “Fuck!” she shouted.

“Shh!” His hand clamped over her mouth and he chuckled. “They’ll hear.”

 _Oh that’s right._ They weren’t necessarily _alone._ They were in a set-off isolation room, but they were on top of the world. Literally. She screwed her eyes up, mouth falling open as soft moans and pants came from somewhere in her body. It was _so good._ She normally wasn’t very turned on by attention to her breasts, but that was before Jon Snow got hold of them.

He laved his tongue at each nipple, giving equal attention with his fingers and his tongue, until he let go of one with an obscene ‘pop’. Each one had hardened and darkened, flushed deep pink and lightly abraded by his beard, and then he kissed over her soft abdomen, his hands now locking onto her hips, dragging his tongue over her exposed cunt. She was still on her knees and he had fallen slightly back on his haunches, turning to almost lie on his back with her over his mouth.

She gripped what she could; her breast, her hair, his hair, his shoulder…anything. He was all over her, she couldn’t focus. Tongue sweeping along her slit, nibbling at her folds, fingers dipping in and out and stroking at her quavering thighs. Heat radiated through her stomach; she had never felt so warm before and that was saying something, since she lived in the desert most of the year. “Oh gods,” she groaned, falling forward over him, holding onto his knees as he brought them up, feet planting on the bed, giving him greater access to her cunt. She pillowed her arms on them, wanting to get a taste of his cock, which was hard and flushed, resting on his stomach, but she was in no fit state to give him any pleasure, what with the way her mind had gone all blank and fuzzy.

He had her lips spread with one of his hands, drinking all he could as she moaned and sobbed, his tongue diving in and out, and then he finally kissed where she needed him most; it was like he was waiting for the right time. Sure enough, when he finally folded his lips around her little clit, she almost screamed and her hand flew down to lock him there, pressing her hips harder against his face. The roughness of his beard, the light scrape of his tongue, and the pressure from his fingers were quickly undoing her. She swiveled her hips to get more, as much as she possibly could, blabbering nonsense as her vision went completely black.

Then it all exploded, as he crooked a finger inside of her at the same time he tapped at her clit and swirled his tongue around it at the same time. She didn’t even know if she screamed; she just knew that everything went white hot, her entire body shaking, and she fell forward, unable to even use her arms to help her, and then she was on her side, her knees pressed tight together and her hand between her legs, trying to stop the intensity of the pleasure, it was almost painful.

It might have gone on forever; she couldn’t be sure.

When she opened her eyes, panting and sweating, strands of her silver hair sticking to her forehead and the back of her sweaty neck, she saw him smirking at her, head propped up on his hand. He patted at her ass, squeezing lightly. “You alright there?”

“Fuck you,” she snapped, before she grabbed his ass; she barely had time to realize that it was just as perfect as it was in his jeans, finely sculpted and so tight you could bounce a quarter off of it, because she closed her lips around him, sucking him almost entirely into her mouth.

The shock of her actions silenced him, his hand slamming onto the back of her head. His back arched, hips pressing into her face, and she happily took him in, despite the uncomfortable feeling of her eyes beginning to water and her throat constricting, struggling to breath as he all but fucked her mouth. She moved her fingers around him, tugging and gripping, moving in a systemic rhythm as she stroked and sucked him. She moaned around him, as he pushed into her, mumbling incoherently when she did things, she discovered he liked.

And then she could feel him tense beneath her, but as much as she wanted him to come in her mouth, to get a taste of him like he had of her, she was very aware of how empty her cunt was, and how much she wanted to come again. And for him to make her come. It seemed he had the same idea, because when she lifted her eyes, to signal to him to hold off, he pulled at her shoulders and lifted her up from her bent position over him.

He pulled her up to her knees, spinning her around, and his fingers danced along her throat, his tongue tracing the shell of her ear. “I’ve wanted to do this since I saw you,” he growled into her ear, voice rasping, tight with the tension of holding back form losing himself completely.

“Why did you wait so long?” she gasped.

“Couldn’t let you win.”

She laughed, but it strangled quickly, when he reached down behind her and between them, and she next felt the tip of his cock prodding at her entrance. “Oh fuck,” she sobbed, when she fell back slightly and slid down over him. Her knees were aching from holding herself up on the hard cot. He wrapped his strong arm around her, his hand almost branding her hip with the heat of it. She felt crowded, his chest pressed against her back and his fingers digging down into her cunt again, roughly circling her clit as he buried himself into her, going slow so as not to hurt her.

It had been longer than she cared to admit and she was quite tight, a fact that seemed to be very aware to them both, but also incredibly pleasurable, as she moaned at the feel of his girth stretching her bit by bit, the borderline pain of it, and how she felt him in every inch of her body, splitting her open for the taking. She was so wet, she thought, touching at herself, feeling the slippery fluid that now smeared along her inner thighs and coated him completely. He was still, letting her adjust, but she heard his tightly controlled breathing; he was going to lose it soon, she thought, smiling to herself. At some point Jon Snow was going to have to let go of whatever control he thought he might have on this situation.

And she desperately wanted him to.

“Let go,” she hissed, kissing his fingers, which curled around her jaw, bringing her back for a filthy kiss, wet and full of tongues and teeth. She laughed. “Let go and fuck me.” She punctuated her demand with a hard rock of her hips back against his, his cock dragging inside of her. She clenched her cunt around it, knowing exactly what reaction she would get, and was not disappointed at his low groan. As she was on the borderline between pain and pleasure, she knew he was too.

Another push of her hips back against his and _finally_ Jon thrust up against her, pushing entirely into her, bottoming out before he drew back and thrust again. Her tits bounced with each thrust, over and over, each one long and slow and drawn out. They were measured, his mouth pressing little kisses on her neck with each one and his fingers gathering at her wetness to circle at her clit again.

Dany wanted more. She reached her arm back, cupping the back of his neck and her other hand pressed his palm over her mound, her hips moving faster. _I want him to let go._ Jon had been tightly wound since she met him in that hanger. She wanted to see what was underneath that cool exterior. So far, she had not been disappointed. There was more to be discovered. And she was an adventurer after all.

She was about to demand again, when Jon pitched her forward. She pushed her hips back, his hands lifting them up and she grabbed one hand into the scratchy cotton sheets beneath them, grunting into the mattress with each pound of his hips to hers. Dany tried not to scream, but it was _so good_. She snapped her teeth into the sheets to stifle her moans and grunts. Every drag of him inside of her stroked a new nerve ending, her spine was tingling with tiny electroshocks. Her cunt warmed from the inside out; he was stoking a fire inside of her that was threatening to explode wildly.

He dropped over her, pressing her down, and his hand clenched around her fingers, gripping with each wild thrust. She moved with him, when he turned her to her side and her thigh lifted to hook around his, their legs entangling. Dany barely turned her head to take his lips into hers, their fingers tangled on the sheets and down between her legs, where he showed her what he wanted her to do, his fingers rough atop hers as they jointly circled her clit. She was shaking, feeling the beginning of the explosion start to leak out. “Almost there,” she mumbled, maybe to herself, she wasn’t sure.

He was losing control; his thrusts weren’t measured, they were hard and punishing, and just when Dany thought he was going to let it go completely, when that beautiful fire inside of her was going to just release, he withdrew from her, leaving her empty and wanting. “What—” she was about to scream at him, when he flipped her to her back and drew her knees up, thumbs pressing hard to the soft skin underneath.

Their eyes met; violet flames and cold steel. He swept over her, mouth latching to hers in a bruising, painful kiss as he slid back into her again. _He wants to see me_ , she thought, laughing into his mouth and carding her fingers through his hair, meeting him with equal ardor. He groaned against her and she felt his entire body seize. One of his hands pushed down on her thigh, her knee almost hitting back against her shoulder, and the sudden change in angle touched the spot inside of her he’d already reached with his fingers, and she shattered.

Everything went dark once more, tiny white lights on the edges, and she cried out, biting down on his shoulder to keep from screaming any louder. His hips stuttered against hers, his cock twitching inside as he came with a raspy shout into the pillow beneath her head. She had one hand clutching his around her leg and another she realized she had all but burned onto his ass, her nails digging into the hard muscle and leaving beneath red half-moons.

He filled her with his release, the hot sticky warmth of it trickling out of her when he finally pulled out a moment later. She whimpered; her cunt was still pulsing with aftershocks from her climax and the loss of him was almost too much. He flopped onto his back beside her, chest rising and falling rapidly from the exertion.

And Dany stared at the ceiling, wondering just what the seven hells had happened.

It was stifling in the room; the ventilation system clearly had not been turned on. They said nothing, still catching their breath. She closed her eyes, trying not to smile. This made no sense. She began to go through the facts. Or tried to go through the facts, like a good scientist.

Here she was, a few weeks after deciding that she hated him on sight, and they had just fucked each other’s brains out. That was only after they’d been forcibly locked in a room together. They might both be sick. They could even fucking be _dying_ and this was what they did? Dany didn’t think she was _that_ crazy. Minutes passed; maybe fifteen, their breath finally coming back to normal. She turned her head slightly, just in time for Jon to turn his, both of them finally meeting each other’s gaze since they’d finished with the other.

“I thought you didn’t like me.”

“Don’t you hate me?”

They both spoke at the same time. Her eyes widened and Jon laughed harshly. “Hate you!?” they both said at the same time, again.

Dany sat up, propping herself up on her elbow, peering down at him, incredulous. “You can’t be serious?” she demanded, eyebrow arching. She laughed again. “You thought I hated you?”

He scowled. “Well yeah…I mean…I know I was a dick the first day I met you and I wanted to apologize, but since then you’ve just been…”

“Excuse me!? Who is the one who threw me out of his lab?”

“After you bit my head off about glaciology!”

“You were the one who was always demanding me to finish my work and when would I be done!”

They fought with each other for a few more minutes, until Dany realized that as they argued, she had straddled him and he was hardening underneath her once more. She glanced down at him, smirking. “Rather fast recovery time,” she snarked.

Jon’s cheeks turned pink. “It’s been awhile,” he mumbled. He reached between them, flicking his fingers across her swollen cunt, the folds already flushing deep pink with her increasing want. She hissed, closing her eyes. It was his turn to smirk. “Maybe for you too?”

“My sex life is none of your concern.”

“Actually it is because I’m about to fuck you again.”

She sniffed, pretending to be unaffected when inside her head screamed _“Yes!”_ “You need to apologize to me for being a complete bloody arse when I first met you.”

“And you need to apologize for coming in all high and mighty and trying to mess up my site.”

He lifted his cock, notching it against her opening and she lifted her hips to slide down onto him, both of them groaning at the sensation. Dany tried to speak, but it was difficult as he began to roll his hips against her the way he did then. She lifted herself up and down, her stomach clenching with the effort. “Ahh…” she exclaimed, closing her eyes, and grit her teeth. “Maybe…ah, right there…yes…maybe we both…fuck!” She managed to meet his gaze, annoying at his continued smirk. “Maybe we both were wrong?”

“Hmm, alright.”

“You need to let go of your control.” The words tumbled out quickly, before she fell forward over him, her forehead pressed to his, the change in her position pressing him to a different place inside of her. She kissed him lightly. “You’re frigid, Jon Snow.”

He snickered. “Dragon Queen,” he mumbled, using her nickname.

She laughed, before moaning again. “What about…” She groaned. “Fuck, what about this…this quarantine thing?”

“Just precaution.” His voice was tight as he began to move faster, his feet anchoring on the mattress to give him more leverage against her. “Unless you did poison us with those damn bones.”

“Not me.”

“Well at least we have…” He glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “We have another twenty hours to know if it’s immediate and we have a whole week in here otherwise.”

 _How was he still talking?_ Dany could barely string two words together herself. She nodded quickly, her braids now stringy and frizzy, hair falling free around her face with the movement. “Okay,” she sighed, before he flipped them again, taking her hard and fast once more.

Honestly, she didn’t know how many times they fucked that first night. She knew that once when they had finished, the phone buzzed, and it was Sam coming to have them take their temperatures and tell him. She had to explain that she did _not_ have a fever, which was why she was all red and sweaty in the face.

After 24 hours, she was a wreck, and even after showering with him a couple of times, they still looked like they had been hit with some sort of plague, as exhausted as they were. She managed to get a bit of work done while Jon napped, and wished that this whole thing turned out to be a complete fluke so she could get back to work. She glanced at his sleeping form, smirking; she didn’t _hate_ him, after all it seemed.

Turned out it was just her brain’s subconscious way of coping with the fact she wanted to shag the daylights out of him. She had never felt like that about anyone before, no wonder she was all confused. Except Jon was infuriating, he was stubborn, and he was also a complete arsehole. She sighed, putting away her notes. _Maybe I’ll join him in that nap._

She was about to crawl into the bed with him when the phone rang, Arya’s voice coming through the intercom. “Hey guys?”

The volume of it echoing in the sparse room forced Jon up from his nap, rubbing blearily at his eyes. “What?” he grumbled. “What does she want?”

“Dunno.” Dany went to the phone, hitting the speaker button. “Yeah?”

“Good news! Your bloodwork is totally normal and turns out that it was all for nothing, the testing mechanism was faulty. We ran it again three more times with the heart and there was nothing. You’re free to come out now!” Arya chuckled. Her voice dropped, only slightly teasing. “Unless one of you is dead?”

“Not yet,” Jon said, leaning into the speaker. “When can we get out?”

“In a few minutes, we’ll unlock the seals and you can get out. Sorry about this.”

He huffed, while Dany said nothing, putting the phone back in place. He crossed his arms over his chest, glancing sideways. “Ah…so I guess this is it.”

“Hmm.” Dany didn’t have much to say; she wasn’t sure what to say. _Thanks for the twenty-four hours of great shags?_ She hesitated and was about to suggest that he show her his lab when they got out, when the door hissed, unlocking. She glanced at Arya, who leaned in on it. “That was fast.”

Arya shrugged. “Thought you guys wanted to be free.” She wrinkled her nose. “Gods, it reeks in here. Did you even shower?”

“Yes,” Dany said, affronted. She knew the room smelled like sex and sweat. Best they disappear as fast as possible. She grabbed her bag and files, smirking at them both. “Thanks, this has been…enlightening.”

After confirming briefly that she could get access to her dragon again, she rushed to her room, heart slamming in her ribs. _Fuck, now what?_

Now what seemed to take forever. Once they were released, she went straight back to work. After the weather cleared up, they went back out and she was able to get the entire dragon, including the skull. They boxed everything up and she would be taking the poor baby down to the main station before he made his long journey to her lab in Essos for in-depth testing. It only set Jon’s expedition back a few weeks, so she expected him to be pleased, but if anything, he was surlier than ever.

A couple of weeks later, she was about to get on Tormund’s helicopter, only slightly upset about leaving DW Station. It had certainly been an adventure, one she wasn’t going to forget. Dany had met a lot of nice people and well…she glanced around the hanger, sighing hard. Jon was nowhere to be found. She knew they hadn’t spoken after their whole… _thing_ , but really, did he have to completely ignore her? Or say nothing to her at all before she left?

_He really is a dick._

“Come on Dragon Lady!” Tormund yelled. “We gotta’ get going!”

“Coming!” she yelled back. She sighed, giving up, and figured Jon Snow wasn’t worth anything after all, and moved to head to the helicopter, when she heard a loud clattering behind her. She turned, laughing at Ghost running to her, his nails clicking loudly on the concrete floor. “Hey you!”

Ghost nuzzled into her, his red eyes bright, and she scratched at his ears, chuckling. He was sweet, even if his owner was a dick. She knelt at him, nuzzling and rubbing his face. “Um, I’m really bad at this.”

Dany looked up at the voice, peering over the top of Ghost’s massive head to see Jon shifting behind him, from one foot to the next. She scowled, letting go of the wolf. “Really bad at what, exactly? Human interaction? Yes, you are.”

He smiled, barely. He sighed, hands shoved into his pockets. “I’m bad at human interaction, emotions, relationships…all that stuff.” He hesitated and then closed his eyes, stepping towards her again. “I fucked up big time. I…I liked you. I…I was mad at you when you got here but I liked you and I didn’t know how to…to…” He sighed hard, groaning. “Gods, I’m a fucking wanker.”

She smirked, reaching for him, but paused. _Nah, that’d be too easy. He needs to grovel more._ “Yes, you are,” she said.

“And…well…after our…quarantine thing, I just…didn’t think you were happy about it.” He shifted again, frowning at her. “You never said anything to me after it. You just left. Buried in your work again.”

 _Oh my gods, he is so thick._ She gaped. “You thought that I regret what happened? I thought you were at least going to say _something_! You just ignored me!”

“Well I…my sister was there! What did you want me to do?!”

She couldn’t believe it. They were both scientists. They were experts in their fields. Highly intelligent people with multiple degrees and yet… _gods we are so stupid._ She closed her eyes tight. “Jon Snow, let’s get one thing straight here.”

“Alright.”

“Do you like me?”

He flushed and stammered. “I mean…like you? I…well I…”

“Jon!”

“Yes!” he exploded. He waved his arms at his sides. “Yes I like you!”

She laughed, her arms going around his neck. “Gods, I hate you.”

“Hate me?”

“Oh yeah, I bloody hate you, so much.” She kissed him, to silence him. Dany thought she was patient, she thought she was fair, and she never hated anyone on sight. Except this man in her arms. She smiled against his mouth, patting his face, murmuring. “I cannot believe it took being locked in a room for you to make a move on me.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, almost makes it seem like it was…” He trailed off, his brow furrowing. He was thinking of something, she thought, cocking her head. He dropped her to the floor, his arms still around her waist as he ran through something in his mind. The wheels were squeaking loudly, she could practically hear them in her own head.

“What’s going on?” she wondered, confused.

Tormund shouted back at them. “Either fuck her there or get on this chopper, Snow! I’m leaving!”

Jon scowled, giving Tormund the finger and dropping his gaze back to hers. He ground his teeth, speaking carefully, although she sensed the anger radiating off him in waves. _Uh oh._ “I think…I need to talk to my sister.”

“Why?” Dany frowned, wondering what Arya had to do with this. Until it hit her, like a snowball in the back of the head, her eyes widening in realization. “No! You think that was all…”

He let go of her and turned, shouting, and shaking with anger. “Arya!”

 _Well I’ll be damned._ Dany laughed. It was all _fake_! There was no biohazard alarm, there was no emergency, and no need to quarantine. _Oh gods. That’s a new one._ She should be angry, upset that she had been manipulated, but well…she really didn’t care. She grabbed hold of Jon’s arm, yanking him back against her. “Kill her after I leave,” she advised.

He grumbled, but accepted the kiss she planted on him. They entwined around each other, as best as they could with her puffy coat and scarves and her beanie falling over her eyes. He smiled against her lips, chuckling again. “You and your layers.”

“Shut up. Let’s see how you behave in my domain.” She shifted and hoped she didn’t come off sounding silly. She smiled again. “When you’re done up here, give me a call in Essos. You can tell me all about ice.”

“I look forward to it.”

“We can go swimming.”

“I don’t really like swimming.”

She kissed him, mumbling against his mouth. “We won’t really be swimming.” She delighted in his groan. He was such a goof. She kissed him one more time, reluctantly pulling away from him, her gloved fingers missing the feel of his skin under hers. She sighed, backing away from him, waving. “See you later Jon.”

He waved back, as reluctant as she. “See you later Dany.”

It was painful, getting into the helicopter, waving at him once more. Ghost danced around in the snow, wagging his tail in goodbye. She pressed her face to the glass, sighing. _Damn._

Tormund looked back at her, guffawing loudly. He tapped the headset and she moved to put hers on, so she could hear him through the radio over the sound of the blades and the wind. “Only time I’ve ever seen Snow happy to see someone go! What did you do to him?”

“Nothing,” she laughed. She frowned. “We were in quarantine.”

“That what the kids calling it these days?”

Dany made a rude hand gesture, which had them both laughing. She spent the trip down to the main station listening to Tormund regale her with Jon Snow stories, ranging from the sweet—he once rescued an arctic fox with a broken leg—to the absurd—he claimed Jon actually died and was brought back to life by a scientist who was studying ancient fire cultures and called herself a Red Woman.

By the time Dany had gotten back to Essos, a few weeks later, she was mentally and physically exhausted and only wanted to sleep for eternity. The university said she would need to start working on the bones as soon as she got a decent night’s sleep, they hadn’t funded her expedition for nothing. She fended off calls from her dean, collapsed into her bed, and slept for about twenty hours straight.

The dream she had been having was quite nice, of Jon between her legs with that tongue of his, when she woke with a start, hearing someone knocking on her door. She scrubbed her face, checking the time. “Gods!” she yelped, throwing the covers off of her. It had been hours—she needed to get to the lab!

It must have been Missandei, she thought, hurrying to her front door. Her best friend would surely have wondered where she was and come looking. She stumbled over some of her clothes from the day before, strewn about her apartment. It was a total dump; she rarely spent time there, too busy at digs or in her lab. “Hang on!” she called.

She got to the door after the person knocked for the 100th time, which pissed her off, even if it was Missandei. It jerked back, her mouth opening to tell them off, her mouth falling open at the sight of who was on her doorstep. She gaped, a strangled sound coming from her throat. “Jon!”

Jon Snow stood on her doorstep, looking very out of place in a pair of khaki cargo shorts, flip-flops, a t-shirt, and his dark hair pulled entirely from his face in a bun, sunglasses shielding his eyes from her. He smiled, reaching to tug off the glasses. “Um, hey.”

“What are you…you…” She stared some more, still trying to put it together. It must have been the jet lag. She frowned. “You’re not wearing a coat.”

“I don’t know if you know this, but Meereen is like a thousand degrees. I think I burst into flames when I got off the plane.”

It was probably true. She laughed, reaching for him, yanking him into her apartment. “Get in here, before you really do burn. What the seven hells are you doing here? What about your expedition?”

“Turns out I know a lot about ice, I figured I’d come learn about fire.”

She giggled, arms linking around his neck. “Yeah?”

He dropped his lips to hers, grinning. “Yeah.”

“No little sister with you this time?”

“Nope.”

“So what was her excuse for the quarantine?”

Jon sighed, lifting her up so her legs could lock around his hips as he carried her through the house, while she pointed where he needed to go towards her bedroom. “Well, she claimed that if we weren’t going to shag on our own, she would make sure that something happened so we would have no choice.”

“I’m not sure what to make of that.”

“Me either, honestly.”

They could talk about it later, she thought, pulling him over her. She sighed, kissing him hard, and settled into her mattress, loving the weight of him on her again. It felt like ages. He dragged his finger over her dragon tooth necklace, the action reminding her of something. “Oh,” she said, lifting his face to hers again. She smiled. “I have some new for you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Preliminary examinations of the DNA we managed to get show that the dragon is likely its own unique species.” Her heart pounded, her adrenaline beginning to pulse into her veins at the thought of her new dragon baby. She grinned, unable to stop. “So once we have more information to announce, I think we can say that we have found the mythical Ice Dragon.”

Jon laughed, pulling her into his arms. “Fuck Dany, that’s amazing!”

“Yeah, and I know what I’m going to call him.”

“What’s that?”

Dany smiled, looping her arms around his neck again, reaching to fiddle with his curls at the nape of his neck. “I’m going to call him Zokla. It means wolf. For you.”

He ducked his head, pinking again. “Oh…well…wow…”

Such an arse, she thought lovingly, dragging him over her. She sighed, smiling at him again. “I still can’t believe I hated you initially.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well it happens.”

“I used to think of you, you know. At night…” She darted her tongue out to flick at his upper lip, drawing his attention to her. She grinned. “In my bed. Alone.”

His eyes darkened, voice husky. “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Care to show me what that was about?”

Dany sighed, rolling him to his back and climbing atop him. “I’ll show you many, many things Jon Snow, things you were too silly to not ask me when we first met.”

“I look forward to it.”

And Dany found it kind of funny that they didn’t leave her room for a week, oddly enough the same amount of time that Arya had claimed they had to remain locked up. She figured that it didn’t matter; honestly, she could stay locked up with Jon forever and didn’t think she’d care, whether at the top of the world or at the end of it .

**fin.**


	2. sandstorm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon visits Dany in Essos and she introduces him to desert work, but when a sandstorm locks them into their tent whatever will they do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the absolutely not necessary smutty follow-up!
> 
> Enjoy :D (and I added a moodboard to the first chapter)

Jon liked to think he was patient.

Who was he kidding? He was definitely _not_ patient. He liked to think he was though. He was patient until others behaved stupidly, dumbly, inanely, and generally did something that was guaranteed to piss him off, which every single person he had ever met eventually did. It wasn’t his fault they did it within five minutes of meeting him. Didn’t mean he was _difficult_.

He had tolerated Daenerys Targaryen as long as he had before he kissed her, hadn’t he? Jon thought this should be medal worthy, as it had practically driven him to throw himself off the highest cliff in the North. Or die of permanent blue balls and a dick that hadn’t exploded despite her every single attempt to do so. She had walked off that helicopter—fell off actually, so adorable—marched right up to him like she owned the fucking place, and he had instantly lost his shit.

Jon Snow, the cold ice scientist, _har, har, har._ He knew what they said about him, he knew everything about everyone. He only lost his temper when he had to; Daenerys made it extremely easy to lose his temper. Plus she smelled really good. Everyone at Direwolf Station stunk, courtesy of sweating in the heavy parkas and insulated clothing, a shitty heating system, and lack of consistent running water. Not her though.

He had meant to apologize to her; he got off on the wrong foot, he was irritated his expedition was pushed back, pissed that Arya had decided to start fucking the station’s chief mechanic Gendry, and doubly angry that Jorah Mormont had gotten his nose involved and decided to send up some _draconologist_ from the south who had never even seen snow let alone tried to work in subzero temperatures where you were lucky if you got through an expedition without suffering frostbite at least once, or losing a couple toes in the process.

Then she’d been high and mighty again, so why should he apologize? She hated him. Jon had experience with people disliking him on sight. He wore it like armor. Started with his stepmother who hated him because he was the product of her husband’s affair—and fucking Ned had decided to drag him home like strange trophy of his lack of honor—to the academic elite who sneered down their noses at him for getting his Ph.D. so young—two of them actually—to those who insisted his field of study was meaningless in the grand scheme of things.

He made a face, leaning against the door frame of the lecture hall, arms crossed over his chest, ignoring the stares of the sorority girls who likely thought this was supposed to be an easy course. He had loads of experience with that in his own lecture halls, all the insipid _Oh Dr. Snow, I can’t possibly understand what you just said about glaciological formations in the prehistoric era, could I come by your office and we can discuss one-on-one?_ Complete with a forward lean showing off their tits and a few long-eye lashed blinks.

Jon Snow was a man, yes, but he wasn’t stupid.

He ignored them all, like he did then, and instead focused his wrath on the fraternity bros who were staring, eyes glazed over, at the woman who marched across the front of the lecture hall, crossing over from an examination table to the Powerpoint screen to the computer on a podium at the far end. Jon had been their age once; he knew what they were thinking. Also what they’d be thinking when they all rushed off to the bathroom for a yank before their next class.

The notion of it made his lip curl in a feral growl.

“As you can see by the formations of the back molars, the Balerion dragon adapted to a consistent food source, likely pre-charred, resulting in less need for the use of their incendiary ducts to the side of the teeth, which we can see here on Drogon, are considerably more grooved and show the classic striations on the base of the tooth from the need to char his food source before eating.” Dany set down the massive jaw, her toned arms flexing, bare in her silky sleeveless white blouse, which he was disgusted to see clung to her breasts rather suggestively, her lacy bra barely outlined when she stretched an arm over to the computer, the material clinging tighter to the firm mounds.

Said blouse was tucked into a trim little red pencil skirt, which showed off a length of tanned and toned leg, and dainty feet set in sky-high heeled sandals. Adorable black frames set on her pert nose and strands of her silver hair escaped from her complicated braided crown-like hairstyle, with half of it tumbling in loose waves over her shoulders. A black jacket hung over a chair; her briefcase set on top of it.

Jon remembered that morning, how she’d been trying very hard to leave the house and put said jacket on, but he kept preventing her, that little pencil skirt pushed up around her hips, a leg thrown over his shoulder as she screamed his name while he was on his knees before her, sucking her little clit between his teeth while his tongue slipped in and out of her, lapping up her sweetness. She’d been very adamant that she had a lecture to get to, but he was also adamant that she remember him while she lectured on dragon teeth for two hours.

At the table, her hands moving over the skull, pointing out something regarding the dragon’s eye sockets, the magnifying lens expanded on a separate screen so the whole hall could see, he thought he briefly saw her tremble, shifting on her feet, thighs rubbing together. Only he noticed, because he knew why she was feeling a little uncomfortable.

Her panties were in his back pocket.

A good luck charm, he’d told her, before he pushed her out the door of her apartment. He needed reminder of what was to come after he gave a guest lecture nearby. Bit strange, talking about glaciers and ice deposits to a bunch of graduate geology students at a university in the center of a desert, but University of Meereen had paid for his ticket out there and airline prices being what they were, he took them up on it.

How else was he going to see his Dany?

Long distance relationships were a bitch, especially when one half worked in rocky dry desert at the bottom of the world and the other worked in the rocky freezing snows at the top of it. They did the best they could, taking time here and there to meet, usually on Dragonstone, an island off the coast of the Stormlands where her family had a massive sprawling estate, always at the ready for her when she wanted. It was just exhausting, flight after flight, but neither one complained, because they got to see each other.

The sound of books closing, desktops scraping and squeaking, lifting up to swing down between the hard-plastic scoop chairs that filled the rows of the lecture hall. Jon pushed away from the door, walking against the wave of students making their way up the stairs to the door and him down to the well of the hall where Dany was closing out her presentation. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers, hanging off to the side, while he narrowed his eyes on the two muscly undergrads who were talking to her, each one it seemed attempting to proposition her.

“But your office hours aren’t good for me, maybe uh…a drink at the Screaming Harpy?” one asked, looking hopeful, while his buddy egged him on.

Dany didn’t even look up at them, finishing with the computer. “My office hours are set and I do not meet students off campus.”

“Oh well, uh…”

“Daenerys.” Jon called out softly from where he’d been lurking, cutting off the frat boy. He stepped up, glaring at the guy, who was twice his size, but who immediately shirked back. He reached for Dany, who beamed up at him. He reached his hand around, draping it just south of her hip, possessively tugging her against his thigh. “Finished my lecture early,” he said, before she could ask why he was there. He grinned down at her. “Came to see you in your element. You didn’t talk about the Ice Dragon.”

Dany turned, violet eyes positively molten, shooting a smirk at the two students, who were pissed. “Gentlemen, this is Dr. Jon Snow, he’s a glaciologist at Queen Alysanne’s University in the North, in Westeros. I worked with him when I discovered the Ice Dragon several months ago.” She placed her hand on her hip. “Perhaps if you want to see more of me, you can attend my seminar I am giving next week at the Dean’s Professional Development series and hear an excerpt from my upcoming book on the expedition?”

Both of the boys rolled their eyes. “Yeah, uh, maybe,” the one said. The other just shrugged, defeated.

“Have a good afternoon gentlemen.” Dany waited until they trudged up the steps, before she turned and smacked his chest, irritated. “Arsehole. You might as well have lifted your leg and peed all around me.”

“I’m not a wolf, I don’t do that.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“You’re not complaining too much, they were hitting on you!”

“Yes, they always do that, I had it handled.” She began to place the bones and dragon teeth in front of her into thick padded cases. “Help me with this.”

Jon tugged on the cotton gloves she used to touch the delicate bones and helped her, grumbling. “You were pretty sexy up there though. I can’t fault them.”

“Hmm, flattery might get you somewhere.” She leaned over the table, pecking his lips, giggling. She fell back onto her heels, an eyebrow arching. “And I believe you have something of mine?”

The red panties in his back pocket seemed to burn at her allusion. He chose to play stupid, scrunching up his nose, but unable to keep from smiling. “Umm…I have no idea of what you speak.”

“Liar,” she murmured, hand reaching to the back of his neck, guiding his face to hers and rubbing their lips together sensually. They both sighed at the same time, missing the feel and taste of the other. It had only been a day but felt like longer. Jon hated it when they had to part. They never seemed to be able to get another of each other before the next stretch of emptiness, where sexy Facetime calls and text messaging during lectures did nothing to assuage the empty feeling he felt in his heart. Plus, his hand was a poor substitution for her hot velvet cunt.

The thought of which had his blood making its way south. “Where’s your office?” he murmured, hoping it wasn’t too far. At least the case of dinosaur bones was large enough to cover his front should he need it.

A throaty chuckle escaped her. She gripped the front of his shirt, knocking him hard against the table as she lifted her knee, her skirt hiking up to reveal a slim, toned creamy thigh. He wanted to grab for it, but his hands were busy stroking down her sides, bunching at the silky material of her blouse. “Upstairs, but I have office hours in twenty minutes.”

“Yeah, they’re canceled.”

~/~/~/~

The Jeep jumped and bumped over the rough dirt terrain, heading straight into the Red Waste. It was open on all sides, wind blowing the tinted dust around them, rocks flecking up to nick at his exposed arms. It felt like a strange sort of roller-coaster ride, one Jon was not a fan of, and he hoped they were almost at the dig site. He could do this fine on a snowmobile or in an ice crawler or even in Tormund’s rickety helicopter, because cold and ice were kind of his thing.

Even the sun in the Lands of Always Winter burned hot, but maybe it was because he was surrounded by chill, it didn’t feel quite like the boiling sensation making its way along his skin. He glanced sideways, watching Dany chatter incessantly about this particular dig; she had been in the middle of it when term started and made visits out on the weekends. Now that there was a break and he’d managed to snag a visit, she wanted to spend a few extra days there and show him.

He’d been to a couple of her dig sites in Dorne and one in the Disputed Lands, but they were definitely not like this. Most were at least close enough to civilization they didn’t need to take a time machine. “Almost there?” he prayed, shouting over the roar of the diesel engine and banging of old metal on the rocks. He gripped tighter to the metal frame bar above his head. He didn’t trust the seatbelt—which was a little too loose for his liking. He swallowed hard. “How old is this thing anyway?”

“This baby?” Dany shouted, smacking the console hard with the palm of her hand. “Oh we go way back. This dragon is the original Drogon!”

He scowled. “I don’t think I like all these things named after your ex-husband?”

She laughed, her silver hair whipping around from her braid. “Aw, jealous?”

“No.” _Maybe._

“Well you have the name of my Ice Dragon, not a shitty old Jeep.”

“I guess that’s better.”

“But to answer your question, yes, we’re almost there.” She pointed, arm stretching across his chest. “There!”

The dig site was certainly different from any he’d seen before, which appeared normally to be a rag tag couple tents covering holes in the ground, maybe one or two trailers set off as portable labs. This one looked similar to the stations in the Lands of Always Winter. Silver trailers with air conditioning units, what appeared to be water tanks, generators, and large stretches of organized grids, little flags flying here and there marking what he assumed were bones. There were some tents covering a few of the different grids and a couple that looked to be staging areas.

A sign staked at the entrance of a crude dirt road read: _Beware the Dragon._ There were a series of arrows pointing in various directions, with distance markers to King’s Landing, Summer Isles, Meereen, Naath, Astapor, Dragonstone, and to his surprise: “Lands of Always Winter?” he questioned. He noted that there was simply a question mark after how far away it happened to be. He chuckled. _Yeah, it’s more than a million miles away from here._

The Jeep came to a hard stop, brakes squealing—Dany was not the best driver. She unbuckled her belt, nodding. “Well yeah, but when I tried to use Searcheros to see how far it was, it just kept crashing.”

“I believe it,” he mumbled, hopping out of the Jeep. He shoved his hands into his pockets, whistling low under his breath at the space-age setup around him. Eyebrows lifting, he glancing sideways to her, grinning. “Nice digs.” He stuck his tongue out, laughing when she threw a rock at him at the terrible pun.

They went first to the main trailer, where Jon met her friend Missandei, who was in the process of deciphering a series of ancient texts, which Dany explained had been found at the site. It seemed they had perhaps stumbled upon a dragon birthplace, old texts located there, along with huts and what might have even been a funeral pyre. “No one knows how dragons are birthed,” Dany explained to him, showing off some of the charred pieces of petrified wood they’d found. She smirked. “I have a theory.”

“Of course you do.”

“Fire and blood,” she said, without him asking what it was.

Missandei was very sweet, he’d heard a lot about her and had been itching to meet her since Dany first began to tell him stories of her undergrad roommate who could speak nineteen languages fluently. He made a note that in the event they ever came upon Old Tongue documents to reach out to her; they hadn’t found any yet in the North, but it was kind of his hope and dream one day to find. Ice wasn’t his only obsession, he did like the cultural anthropological side of working in the North, even if he preferred rocks and glaciers.

When they finished, she moved him over to another trailer, which had a sign tacked out front simply saying: Dragon Queen. “Your chambers, I presume?” He smiled at her eyeroll, watching her punch a number into the electronic keypad, unlocking the door for them. He held it open, gesturing. “After you my queen.”

“Thank you, my king.”

The door closed behind them with a hissing airlock, a familiar and somewhat comforting noise. Reminded him of being back up at Direwolf Station. He felt instant relief from the blast of cold from the air conditioning vent, eyes blinking to adjust to the muted lighting compared to the fluorescent of the previous trailer. Dany led him to the bones on the lightbox tables, pointing out things here and there.

It was all fascinating, especially her lab setup. He liked to snoop in other labs, see what fancy equipment they had that maybe he wanted. Or explore other methods of examining things. He nodded along, somewhat absently. Dragon bones did interest him, because they interested her, and he had to admit, that seeing her Ice Dragon all laid out the way the bones now were in the Northern Heritage Museum in Hardhome, complete with the story of how she identified them, named them, and all the work she’d done in ensuring they were preserved, despite their fragile status—it made him incredibly proud of her.

Dragons just weren’t really his _thing_ , as she called it. He liked ice and cold. He idly picked up one of the bones, running his thumb over the striations, which resembled an ice core, the way the lines wavered and tapered. “Have you ever considered examining what climate effects are on the bones?” he asked. He glanced sideways at her, seeing her nose wrinkle and lips purse. He chuckled, setting the bone down. “I just mean…looking at the adaptations of the dragons to the elements.”

She smirked, nudging at him. “You just want an excuse for me to go back up North. Nuh-uh Dr. Snow, we’re in _my_ world right now.”

“It’s just so hot,” he groaned.

“Poor Dr. Snow, he’ll melt in the heat. Did you remember to bring your zinc oxide?” It was said in jest, but Jon scowled, because _yes_ he did remember, and he was not looking forward to her teasing when he slapped it onto his nose. He had no idea how she spent so much time in the heat and her skin was as smooth and unblemished as a porcelain figurine. Even her tan gave her an otherworldly glow, her silver hair shining and the sun serving to highlight her violet eyes.

All he did was turn into a tomato.

He lifted his head, hearing a siren or some sort of alarm bell blaring. It reminded him of the biohazard alarms in Direwolf Station. “What’s that?” he asked, on alert.

Dany pushed by him towards her computer station, glancing at a monitor and cursing in Valyrian. She picked up a radio, pressing the side. “Grey, do you read, over?”

An accented voice called through. “Grey here, copy, over.”

“Are you seeing what I am?”

“ _Kessa_ , sending out warning now, over.”

Dany spoke in Valyrian for a few more commands, once she was satisfied, she hooked the radio onto her belt, and took his hand, dragging him towards the door while she began to power down her lab. “We have to get to shelter,” she directed, not waiting for him to ask why or _what the seven hells was happening_. Jon listened, nodding. He had been in enough situations in the North to follow her direction without question.

“What is going on?” he finally asked, as she opened up a cabinet by the door, removing a heavy flashlight and a large pack, slinging the strap over her shoulder.

“Major sandstorm, it kicked up unexpectedly, should be hitting soon.” She checked her phone, a weather application up on the screen, frowning at it. “It doesn’t look like it will be too bad.” Almost as soon as she said it, the trailer rocked, a wail of wind drowning out her curse.

His heart hit with heavy thuds against his ribcage, following her out when she opened the door, where he was hit with an instant gust of wind. It was churning up sand into little swirls and tornadoes, shaking the canvas tarps tied down over the dig sites. It was like the opposite of a snowstorm, dark and ominous compared to the bright white of snow. Dany tugged on his hand, dragging him from the lab. As she led him from the lab, he realized that there was a use for a lot of the strange ropes that were tied around the dig—they were guidelines, probably for this very moment.

A few minutes later, sand stinging his eyes and wind smacking on his exposed skin, Dany had him inside another trailer. This one was clearly her living space when she was on the site; he took notice of a small couch and a tapestry with three dragons hanging above it. She closed the door, locking it into place, chest heaving from the exertion. The wind had picked up even more in the few minutes it took to get from the lab, shaking the structure and rattling the windows. Jon went over to peer out of one beside the door, eyes widening at what he hadn’t seen when he was following her lead. Everything had turned red and dark now. The sun completely blocked out and he could only see a few feet from the trailer, red swirling around anything else. “Whoa,” he mumbled.

Dany moved through the small living room, which also had a chair by the window and through a kitchenette to a larger space that had a desk and table, including a lightbox table with a few scattered bones and X-rays. She swiveled in her seat to a computer, tapping away with one hand while the other flicked on a radio set. While she worked, ascertaining everyone had gotten into shelter, Jon scoped out the rest of where she called home when she wasn’t in her tiny apartment in Meereen.

It was serviceable, reminded him of his quarters in DW Station. He spent most of his life up there in the freezing cold, he hardly remembered what his shitty place at Winterfell actually looked like. He preferred this type of living anyway. He poked around her books—nothing but stuff on dragons, some mythological and others her actual books. He sniffed around into her bedroom—giant bed with red silk sheets. _Nothing but the best for Dany_ , he smirked.

To his shock she had a full-size bathroom, complete with an actual tub. “How the fuck did you get this?” he demanded. DW Station he had to deal with cold showers almost exclusively and the showerhead barely hit his shoulder.

“I’m the boss,” Dany said, in answer. She had left her desk, wandering over to the fridge and opened it, taking out a bottle of wine. As she moved, the structure shook once more, lights flickering. He eyed the ceiling uneasily. She chuckled. “Scared Jon?”

“Of a sandstorm? No.” He jumped at another howl of wind, followed by a loud bang against the aluminum walls. “What was that!?”

Dany handed him a glass of wine. “Aw, scaredy wolf.”

“No!” He wasn’t _scared_ exactly. He had been through a lot worse than just a sandstorm. He sipped the wine, which wasn’t bad, even if he would have preferred ale or a beer. He scowled at her, although he did love the little smirk on her pouty lips and the twinkle in her eyes. He looped his arm around her waist, tugging her against him. “How long do these things last?”

“Oh could be a few minutes, could be a day or so.”

 _Day!?_ He frowned, hearing another bang, glancing out the window again. Now he couldn’t see anything but red dust. “So what do we do now?”

Dany set the glass down on the table next to the couch, reaching for his belt, her violet eyes darkening. “Oh Jon, I thought you were supposed to be smart. What do you think I’m going to do to you, all locked up in here with nowhere to go?”

A flash of her bent in front of him, moaning his name, fingers clutching into sheets as he pounded into her from behind, filled his senses. It was like he was right back there in that tiny quarantine room in the far North, the most infuriating woman he had ever met clenching around his cock while his mind filled with the heat of the room, the softness of her skin on his, and the heady realization that after weeks of hating her he was so fucking glad that if they were going to die of some insane ancient disease from a thawed dragon heart, at least he would go out having known what Daenerys Targaryen tasted like.

It was his turn to set his wine glass on the table beside hers, his fingers reaching to tug out her shirt from the waist of her jeans. “I can think of something,” he murmured, crashing his mouth down over hers.

~/~/~/~

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.”

 _I have absolutely zero intention of that_ , Jon thought vaguely, his tongue flicking featherlight against her protruding clit, while he slipped his right hand around to press the small of her back, pulling her up so he could get more of her, fingers of his left hand thrusting in and out of her cunt, which gripped them so painfully he thought he might lose control, his cock intensely jealous.

They had gods knew how much time to themselves and he intended to make her beg for it. He wanted to hear her scream over the sound of the wind, which pummeled around them, windows rattling angrily. He had succeeded in making her come once already, since he bent her over the arm of her couch and tasted her there, but in his opinion, Daenerys Targaryen should come over his mouth and come over it often. He was completely alright with holding off on his own pleasure so he could give her as much as she could handle.

She whimpered over him, her fingers digging into his scalp, twisting and tearing at his hair, but he didn’t mind. “Jon,” she moaned, her thighs clenching around his head, like a vice, but he moved to push them back out again, her feet anchoring on his shoulders. She undulated her hips up, fucking at his tongue. A hand escaped the confines of his hair to lift up to tear at hers; he rolled his eyes up long enough to see her mouth open, her perfect breasts arching up towards the ceiling as she bowed her back, nipples rosy and damp from his mouth a few minutes before he’d reached her cunt.

A hand dropped now to twist at one of them, her hips swiveling around again, breath gasping impatiently. She was making it difficult for him, he thought, as she sometimes couldn’t come quite as fast as he would prefer. _No matter._ He lapped up at the salty tang of her, groaning at the slide of it against his tongue. The first time he’d done this, he thought if he could die then, he’d die happy. He still stood by that sentiment.

He pressed harder against her, straightening his tongue out to thrust into her, mimicking what he would be doing to her soon enough, he slipped another finger in—up to three now—but it seemed she could barely feel it, she was a slippery mess, her cunt pulsing around his digits as he stroked and curved them up, the velvet heat of her sucking them deeper. He groaned; he was not going to last long, his cock felt like an iron rod and it was painful, pressed against the mattress and his stomach.

 _Almost there_ , he thought, feeling her tense again above him, her babbling nonsensical, slipping between Valyrian, Dothraki, Ghiscari, and Common Tongue. He absolutely loved it that he could do this to her, drive her to the very peak of intensity, the absolute edge of her sanity. “Come for me,” he ordered, whispering words hot against the softness of her inner thigh.

It took just another curve of his middle finger, in as deep as he could reach it, and then his hand curved around her hip, pressing flat against her lower abdomen, a gush of her cum flowing into his mouth, and her shriek drowning out the howling wind. He grinned, lazily kissing along her outer lips, her cunt puffy and pink from her orgasm, and her thighs trembling around him while the rest of her body shivered on the bed.

Jon was careful not to jostle her too much; she was almost painfully sensitive after coming like that. He meandered kisses up her belly, between the valley of her breasts, on each nipple, and then secured to the tense cord of muscle along her throat, while she continued to shake, hands wide over his shoulders, and body bowing slightly up to reach him, never letting him go from her embrace.

The rest of the world was so fuzzy when he was in her arms like this. He nuzzled up her neck, licking the droplets of sweat behind her ear and moved to take her mouth with his. She sighed, hand pressed on his cheek, her tongue sliding languidly along his. He moaned softly, her leg having curved around his hip, heel pressing to the small of his back, his cock now trapped against her thigh. He could feel the heat of her release sliding along his length, teasing. “Careful,” he murmured against her mouth, chuckling. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“Hmm,” it was her turn to mumble, fingers diving through his curls; she’d long ago thrown aside the tie he used to keep them held from his face. Her violet eyes had gone black as night, the gold speckles in them shining like stars. Her cheeks were flushed pink, hair a tangled knot on the pillow beneath her head. She sighed once more, burrowing backwards into the sheets and pillows. Her index finger twirled around a wayward curl near his forehead. “Your tongue should win an award Jon Snow.”

“That would be interesting to see on my C.V.” He hissed as she arched her hips to him, her other hand now snaking along his side, slipping over his hip to dig her nails into his ass. He tried to speak, but her other hand had now slipped between them, moving along the sticky mess of her cunt to grip his cock, starting to slide it along her slit, gathering up her wetness and slicking over it. She moaned softly at the action, her hips beginning to swivel up. Words were meaningless, but for some reason he felt like using them. “Jon Snow…Ph.D…geologist…glaciologist…ah…fuck Dany.”

She grinned. “Fuck Dany on your C.V.?”

“Fuck,” he hissed again, unable to stop his hips from thrusting up into her hand. She tightened her grip, her little hand firm, moving up his shaft, from root to tip, thumb flicking at the precum, dragging it back down again. He laughed softly, mouth latching onto her shoulder, his weight braced over her on his forearms, on either side of her head. “Hmm…professional…cunt…” He honestly had no idea what they were talking about anymore or even _why_ he was talking. All his brain wanted—the one in his head and the one in his _other_ head—was to bury inside of her, his breath coming in agitated pants the longer he was without. The tables had turned, now he was the one begging. “Dany, fuck, _please._ ”

Instead of bringing him inside of her, when he thrust again into her hand, she teased him, fingers slowly pulling along his length, tapping the tip of him against her clit, her hips rolling up to slick along him again. She chuckled, low rumble against him. “Hmm…” She darted her tongue out to graze the shell of his ear. “Daenerys Targaryen’s professional cunt eater, you could list it under…ah… _specialized skills_.”

 _That’s it. I’m done, I can’t take this._ He gathered what energy he had left, the bit that hadn’t been smothered by her taste and touch and entire, well, _being_ , and flipped onto his back, dislodging from her grip. She yelped, surprised at the movement, jostling to the side. In one sweeping motion, he had her flipped to her stomach, her hips lifted in the air, and one hand on her hip, the other diving to pull her hair aside. He wrapped the strands around his wrist, tugging so he could cover her mouth with his, in a wet, filthy kiss.

She growled, hissing up at him and pressing her arse into him. “Fuck,” she groaned.

“That’s the general idea,” he rasped, hand gliding along the soft swell of her arse to slip around her, guiding himself easily into her molten heat. It was like a volcano pouring lava over him, each time he enveloped himself inside of her; Daenerys was pure fire, just like her dragons. All she did was melt him, thawing out his cold, frozen ice block of a heart. He was entirely different with her, felt like he was somehow _whole._

Two sides, ice and fire, polar opposites, and yet the same element. Destructive and dangerous and as close to the base elements of the world as you could get.

The grip of her around him almost had him losing himself right then and there, slowly pushing through, even though she was wet enough to take him as fast as he could go; he wanted to drag it out, to tease her, like she’d teased him. His fingers branded into her hip, pulling her back as he thrust forward again, bottoming out. Pulling out just enough to hear her whimper at the loss, and then slowly back in again, his groans mingling with hers. “Jon, please,” she begged, her fingers tight in the sheets, gripping at the corner of the mattress. She threw her head back, eyes closed, mouth parted—her lips were bright red from where she’d been biting at them, tongue darting out to lick at them again. “Don’t tease.”

He pressed her into the sheets, the silk cool against his heated skin, and teeth raking at her neck. “No teasing? Where’s the fun in that?”

“You fucking arsehole.”

He laughed; he was an arsehole. He quickened his pace now, pressing her into the mattress with each hard thrust, now barely pulling out before slamming back into her. His hand slipped from her hip, grasping at her fingers, clutching them as he bent over her; her knees had long given out, her grunts and cries muffled in the silk.

There was no way he was going to last much longer, he was already close when he’d started this little game; he was going to explode in another few pumps, he could feel it. “Dany,” he began, gasping her name. She clenched around him, her orgasm building, he could feel it, the way she keened and twisted beneath him.

He didn’t know how she did it, but suddenly she was bucking back against him so hard he was falling onto his back, her body twisting from under him, dislodging him. He slipped from her, groaning at the loss of her warmth, but not for long, because suddenly she had straddled his hips, impaling herself over him, and her hands planted on either side of his head, a laugh caught in her throat as she rode him.

Whatever he was going to say—she was the arsehole, what the fuck, any sort of complaint—disappeared at the sight of her over him, her tits bouncing with each slam of her hips, the furled pink nipples just reaching his mouth, which he immediately anchored onto one, nipping and rolling it into a tight little bud, her cries louder now. He was almost coming off the bed now, slamming up into her with as much force as she gave him.

And then she was coming, his fingers idly stroking at her clit once he felt her stiffen over him, throwing her over the edge she was already teetering on. She bowed over him, nails digging into his abdomen for support, continuing to ride him through her release, rubbing her clit against his pelvic bone. The sight of her did him in—sheer goddess she was, a living flame.

The darkness took him, the heat exploding out from the base of his spine to all his nerve endings, her cunt milking him as he lost himself, spilling into her, everything he could give. The hoarse cry of her name mingled with her soft whispers of his, drowning out the sound of the storm beyond the walls of their little nest. He wrapped his arms around her, sitting up to pull her to him, their skin damp with sweat, sealing them together.

“I love you,” she murmured against his lips, kissing sweetly. He nodded, exhausted, sated, and fucking delirious. _That’s what she does to me, she makes me crazy_ , he thought, nuzzling his nose against hers, smiling at the dopey glazed look in her eyes, the same he imagined mirrored his.

He sighed, still inside of her, and nodded again. “Aye,” he mumbled, stroking his fingers along the silky skin between her shoulders, his other hand still locked in her hair. He kissed her again, slow and long, tongues slipping together, mimicking the movements their bodies had just done. When he broke the kiss, he removed his hand to cup her face, smiling. “I love you too.”

She giggled; it was such an odd sound from her, girlish and so unlike the Dragon Queen persona she put on for the world. “Well Jon Snow, that is the first time I believe we have said that to each other.”

He grinned; it was indeed. _Seemed like it was always just understood._ “Words are just formality at this point, I think I loved you from the first moment I met you.”

“You hated me.”

“I never hated you, remember I thought you hated me.”

She rolled her eyes, falling over to her side. He moved to lay opposite her, their hands coming together, palm to palm. “You stupid man. You are so bad at this stuff.”

“Well, yeah.” It was never something he had ever been good at. Late bloomer that he was, despite what all the girls said about his _pretty curls_ and _dreamy eyes._ He felt shy all of a sudden, reaching to pull the sheet up over his lower half, which had “I-would-walk-around-naked-all-day-if-I-could” Dany rolling her eyes. As someone who grew up in Essos, she was far more comfortable in her body than he ever would probably be with his.

To prove it, she stood slowly from the bed, sauntering nude to the bathroom, talking over the sound of the faucet running as she cleaned herself up. “You are such an oddity Jon Snow.”

“I am?”

“Aye,” she mocked, returning to the room and climbing into the bed, but not bothering to tug the sheet over her as she curled against his side. She smirked, violet eyes dancing merrily. “You are so surly, yet you’re kind. You are brash, yet you can be very soft. You are so pretty but you have no idea why. You are a beast in bed, but you blush when I look at you naked.” He wasn’t sure what to say, but she didn’t intend for him to say anything, her finger tapping his nose, before she kissed him, hard and swift, murmuring: “And I love you, in all your oddness.”

 _That’s something, I suppose._ He smiled, nipping her lower lip. “I love you too Daenerys Targaryen. In all your oddness as well.”

“And how am I odd?”

The entire trailer gave a loud shake, the lights flickering again. He rolled his eyes up to the window above the bed, nothing but red sand and dirt flying by the glass. He laughed again. “Ah, look at where we are. In a sandstorm, in the middle of nowhere, all because of some dragon bones.”

“Dragon bones, I will have you know, can tell us a great many things…”

“Save the lecture Dr. Targaryen.”

She giggled, pushing against his chest when he tried to kiss her neck. “Oh Dr. Snow, I just for the life of me could not understand chapter three about ice melt and…”

He cut her off by divebombing her belly, blowing loud raspberries against her heated skin, resulting in her laughing shrieks, which filled the room and drowned out the wind, just as Jon had intended.

**fin.**


End file.
